


Resilience

by Trifoilum



Series: Texting Robert [8]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Drama, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Past Infidelity, joseph was talked about here, some allusion to hugoxdamien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 07:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12127887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: Mary smiled like you were an idiot. “Between the smiling youth pastor with his delectable baked goods, and his nasty alcoholic bitch of a wife, who would the community prefer?”“...You’re not like that. You’re as much active in church as Joseph.”“I know. Everybody else doesn’t. Joseph is the face.”“And Joseph is cheating on you.”“I know. Everybody else doesn’t.”With everything happening, she could have just packed her bags and left.





	Resilience

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Some discussion about cheating
> 
> ...that feeling when your character study becomes a full-blown fic.

Sometimes the crowd was a sanctuary.

Today was another one of those days when you craved the indifference in being part of the mass. The craving had struck you the first day you moved, and it culminated again in another trip to Jim and Kim’s. The crowd was present in full force, mostly clad in coordinating red themed outfits, all watching the game blasting from the TV.  The commotion drowned whatever song the bar tried to play, although you were sure it was country.

You chose the corner spot and sat there. It was only noticeable from certain spots, protected by a mixture of architecture and shade, and today you were not in the mood of bothering just what sort of shenanigans had happened in this secluded seat. This would be perfect for brooding with a glass of whiskey or people watching.

Neil came bearing a welcoming smile. There seemed to be more photos and papers sticking all over the interior. “Hey. Are you alone today?”

You nodded. Robert had offered to come, and you were worried he would feel anxious about the refusal. but he was very gracious about your need for space. 

“You’re coming at the wrong time. It’s Monday Night.“ expressed Neil with sympathy. He then pointed on the other corner. “Mary’s over there.”

Right, Mary was definitely there, light brown hair and her brown sweater a contrast with all the bright red of the jerseys. The woman was probably doing her usual thing.

“Oh. Well. I’ll leave her be. Just tell her I’m here, if she’s free,” you offered, flashing the owner an impish grin. “Can I have a Cosmo? Make it extra sweet, with a pretty little umbrella on top.”

Neil gave you a pointed smirk. “Going all the way, huh? Will do,”

The Cosmopolitan was a deep pink concoction with a slice of lemon as a contrast. The umbrella was a lighter shade pink, almost peach, with white cherry blossoms scattering around it. Neil seemed to pull no stops and sprinkled edible glitter, very visible under the lights. A roar was building up from the crowd before deflating into a collective groan. The various neon lamps never seemed to add any more lighting, but it sure added to the rustic mood. There was the ever present whiff of alcohol and cigarettes.

It was _perfect_.

=======

Everyone was engaged in their own business and you were free to unwind. The stimulation was the wave you surfed around, the tracks on which your train of thought strolled peacefully. It steadily passed through the trivial stuffs (gossips, the shrieks of Craig’s horde of soccer mums) and moved into the more important stuffs (savings, list of expenses, The Future™), and it ended in gratefulness because the important stuffs went really well.  Amanda lived her college life well (better than yours, at the very least). And Robert--

_“C’mere,” rasped Robert. You were on his bed, enveloped with his body warmth. You pressed your face onto his neck, taking a whiff of him, listening to his heart beating. There was no smell of alcohol anywhere; just the detergent, and soap, and him. His hand grabbed the back of your head and you were pulled into a deep kiss. The man was smiling as he nuzzled you, scratching his stubbles against your tender skin, and everything already felt like home and then--_

_It was late, and he visited your home so suddenly. “Val called,” blurted Robert with an ecstatic grin. “It’s the first time. Just checking up, but— thank you. I cannot say this enough. Thank you.“ The older man burst into a relieved laugh, with a tinge of disbelief around it. You remembered being overwhelmed by the joy and--_

Robert was really good.

You let a relaxed sigh and looked around. Mary was indeed flirting with a young-looking guy. He would give the screen a cursory glance before focusing his attention back to her. He was white and tall and built. In any other situation he would be imposing the way Craig or Robert or Hugo never would. In front of Mary, as much as he was determined to win, the hunched shoulder and frantic hand movements told you otherwise. Meanwhile Mary sipped her wine, leaning against the wall with a lazy, nonchalant smirk. You knew that face, it was her ‘you’re so amusing, _pet_ , please keep talking’ face.

It was a glorious sight.

Mary Christiansen was always a different person when prowling. Here, Mary was a natural showstopper, magnificent and intimidating without having to try. She was free and relaxed; her caustic humor amusing instead of acidic. She was practically a contrast from Robert, who seemed to treat this bar as a hunting ground. While you found that Robert revealed so much of himself outside this bar, you always believed that Jim and Kim’s was where Mary could roam free.

Here, there was none of her husband’s shadow looming over her.

The wine in her glass was gone; the guy had exhausted his chances. Mary gave him a pat on the shoulder, and walked to the counter. She chatted with Neil as the owner poured more wine into her glass. You couldn’t hear anything but Mary was much more animated with him than she was with the previous guys.

It made a sad juxtaposition. Outside, Mary was always...Repressed was the word, from everything you had seen outside Jim and Kim’s. You always wondered why, beyond the obvious answer of having a cheating husband she had to meet every single day. The hypothesis went as such: Joseph was a strong presence by himself. And then you remembered the way he hosted all those community events and had a feeling that his presence would outshine everyone else’s. Mix that with archaic gender roles and expectations that demanded a woman to be docile and submissive, and those made a deadly combination that surely wasn’t helped by the close-knit nature of suburbs.

Shit, Maple Bay would feel very different for people like Mary; it would become an oppressive and vicious place. Joseph’s flock would see her as a threat, the proverbial nail that sticks out.

You saw Neil pointing at your direction, and Mary raised her glass. You raised your Cosmo high. The TV was running commentaries. The background song was audible now, and it had strong earworm potential. Pop, and not the kind that pretended itself as anything else. Most of the crowd dispersed, probably for bathroom breaks. That guy was looking at Mary this time. You abruptly turned your head.

 

Mary had left her mark, apparently.

 

After refilling her glass again, calm steps approached you. “Hey, nerd,” greeted Mary, looking around. The red liquid in her glass swayed gently like a tempting lover, and you knew it would be the one she would return to each and every time. “You’re alone.”

“Yeah.”

Mary glanced at the Cosmopolitan, half-gone. “So what’s with that drink?”

”In a mood. No one’s judging now.”  
  
“Oh, I judge. I judge you all right. “

“As long as you keep it inside.” Smiling, you sipped the Cosmo, and both of you fell into a mutual silence. Your mind wondered about the guy she flirted with. “Who’s the guy? Does he live here?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” answered Mary. “I do know his friend over there; his daughter was part of the flock.”

“Kinda awkward.”

“Not really.” Mary sipped her wine. “What’s going to happen?”

At some point the game must have been starting because the room exploded into cheers—someone scored. You briefly wondered if people in her congregation were aware of her behavior.

You carefully avoided that path. “The conversation didn’t go well?”

Mary chuckled. “Kind of adorable, actually. So awkward, so desperate to please. Reminds me of a dog we have in the shelter.”

“It sounds like the flirting was unsuccessful.”

“He didn’t flirt. _He keeps bragging_.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Adorable, isn’t it? Look at me, look at me, _love me_.”

“Sounds really exhausting.”

For a while the bar was filled with rapturous shouts and glasses being slammed down onto the table. Even Neil cheered.

“Try volunteering. You’ll meet these kinds a lot. It’s kind of fun,”

“You and I have a very different idea of fun.”

“Yours are worse.”

“The animals were abandoned and will spend the rest of their life longing for freedom, someone else to love, or both.”

Mary sipped her wine again. “Yeah, fun.”

 

Both of you eyed the guy again; he was sitting inside the crowd, trying to join in the festivity. He would cheer after a delayed pause, overcompensating by being louder than the others.

 

“Lord.” You groaned. “Sounds super exhausting. You really can do better, Mary.”

“Depends. Do you need the company?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Honestly, no.”

Mary cackled and downed the wine in one long gulp. “Then it’s another playtime for Mary. After that, I’m going home and you’re coming with me.”

You gave her a worried look. “Be nice with him.”

“Won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

You would stop her, but she kept walking.

You played with the little umbrella, spinning It with your finger. Wondering how she could endure everything. With everything happening, she could have just packed her bags and left. As the umbrella kept spinning, little flowers creating trails of white, you wondered if that was why she always prowled around here when she had never reaped the fruits of her flirting.

 

Perhaps the crowd was a sanctuary for her too.

 

=======

 

The look you gave her in your way home was half awe, half scandalous; so different from the first time you walked her home. “I really can’t believe you sometimes, Mary.”

“I was nice to him!” defended the woman.

“You lectured him about flirting.”

 

The opponent won. You had returned with Mary before the rest of the bar started drinking their sorrows. She kept her pace beside you, walking normally as if the five or six glasses of wine (you counted) hadn’t happened. Her shit-eating grin was bright enough to light the mostly abandoned street.

Her gait was triumphant.

“His flirting game was a mess. Even dude himself knows that.”

“You lectured him. _In public_.” You grinned.

“I couldn’t do anything with him in good conscience. It was like stealing a candy from a baby. Seriously, even you are better, and that’s a really low bar.” To your astonishment, she took out a hip flask from her bag and started drinking again.

“How dare you, Mary Christiansen. I shall inform you that my wit has captured the heart of at least two people.”

“Stop overselling yourself,” laughed the woman.

You turned to her, waving with flourish. “In fact, I challenge you in a duel here and now. En garde.”

“And I will wipe this road with your ass.” Mary lightly kicked your thigh with her feet.

You laughed with her.

 

The few people still on the streets were likely going home like you did. From a distance, a dog barked somewhere. Considering the number of houses with their lights on, the night wasn’t over yet for many.

“Do you know who’s damn good at flirting?”

“Who?” asked yourself, still in laughter.  
  
“Joseph.”

“Oh.” The laughter died. “Okay.”

“You surely don’t think he gets all those ass because he _baked_? Or do you think it was the yacht?”

“Hello?” Mary asked again when you didn’t reply, waving her hand in front of your face.

Your fingers were curled into a fist. The silence was heavy this time.

 

_She could have just packed her bags and left._

 

“Why didn’t you go with that guy?” you blurted, then _immediately_ wilted, “I mean, if you’re comfortable talking about that.”

Mary tilted her head aside. “Guy flirted by explaining the complexity of Italian cheese. I’m very much comfortable talking about that.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

The withering look she gave you erased all trace of your own drunkenness. “Because I’m not Joseph?”

You coughed. “But you can avoid becoming Joseph.”

Mary sighed. She looked like she had explained this to more people than she’d like _._ “And what will happen?”

“What?”

 

The cul-de-sac was close, so she stopped walking. Her fingers wiggled in front of your face. “What will happen after that? No, actually, I’ll walk you through. Imagine it; the divorce paper is done, he signed it; I signed it. Done—no more Mary Christiansen. Whee yay. Except that also means I’m most likely leaving this place.”

“Why would you?”

Mary smiled like you were an idiot. “Between the smiling youth pastor with his delectable baked goods, and his nasty alcoholic bitch of a wife, who would the community prefer?”

“...You’re not like that. You’re as much active in church as Joseph.”

“I know. Everybody else doesn’t. Joseph is the face.”

“And Joseph is cheating on you.”

“I know. Everybody else doesn’t.”

Your tone rose. “And why does their opinion matter, Mary?”  
  
She took a long gulp. “Not for me. What do you think makes Joseph avoid doing the right thing?”

“Your children? The sanctity of marriage?”  
  
Mary laughed and it was bitter, oh so bitter. “Oh, I have no doubt Joseph can and will get full custody if it comes to that.”

That shocked you. “Is he that cruel?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter; he would be expected to do that for the kids, and that is the point. Expectations. Pressure. Those are Joseph’s kryptonite.“

 

You tried to imagine the environment that would push someone to alienate the mother of their children, and failed.

 

“Before you start thinking bullshit, I don’t hate him,” said Mary.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. At worst I just pity him. I’m still angry at him for he’s done, but that doesn’t mean I hate the rest of him.

“But you hate being together with him,” you pointed out.

“I loathed all the times I have to pretend being _obedient._ Since when hating your husband’s job is equal to hating your husband?”

At this point, you had feared she would be furious or at least offended when talking about this. In reality Mary sounded just like she did an hour ago in Jim and Kim’s. _Find some sort of common factor between you and your potential partner. Have you ever heard of ‘tell me more about yourself?’ try to say that more often._ _Stop talking about cheese._

Your shoes pressed tightly on the road, creating scraping sounds that filled the silence. “Where are you going with this, Mary?”

The woman was absently checking her fingernails. “So, ninety nine percent says Mary’s outta here. Or, at best, he and I both left Maple Bay. Either way, it’s fine for me, but what does that mean to our children?”

You gave Mary a curious look. “A happier childhood?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. There was a hint of anger in her voice. “Not if Joseph stays the same. He could just marry again, and I’m not seeing any indication he’s changing his mind.”  
  
You pressed your feet harder on the ground. “He could find another wife, yes. But that’s not your problem.”  
  
She sipped the flask again. “So it becomes a problem of three instead of two. Whee yay.”  
  
You couldn’t argue with that.

 

Then the woman looked at you with fire in her eyes. “And what about Damien? Or Robert? Dames _may_ be fine.” Her tone changed into a hiss. “But what do you think Robert will do to Joseph if I’m not here? Do you think I want my kids to see _that?_ ”

“Nobody would blame you if you do,”

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

“Are you saying that,” you hissed back. “You’re not hurting, Mary?”

“ _No_.” Mary’s lips thinned into a line, as the hand gripping the flask trembled. “I get it, I do. I also get that I can’t teach my children anything about having a happy, fulfilling, monogamous relationship. But at least I can teach them something about resilience. About trying to be happy when the world decided for some reason you shouldn’t.”

You tried opening your mouth, but nothing came out. Mary kept glaring, and it was uncomfortable to maintain eye contact, so you looked away. Then she sighed, and you could feel the bubbling tension deflated. “You’re right, though—the children, they deserve better.”

You nodded. “And Robert’s recovering.”  
  
The fire was gone, and she gave a light pat on your shoulder. “And I’m not taking that away from him, nerd. Not for my peace of mind, and especially not for a dick.”

“You have to think of yourself sometimes, Mary.”

“Of course I do. And that is why I do try to be happy,” said Mary, wiping her eyes.

It was easy to question her idea of happiness. You carefully avoided that path. “Are you happy?”  
  
Mary smiled with pride. The stiffness was gone and she became animated, talking as much with her hands as with her words. “How can I not? Joseph still loves our children. My children’s growing up well so far. Robert’s happy with the nerd, Dames’ happy with the _other_ nerd, I get to play with lonely animals every now and then, and I just managed to save some innocent thing from a lifetime of embarrassment because he doesn’t know how to hold a proper conversation.”

 

It was a glorious sight. It was also painful.

 

She chugged the rest of the flask before putting it inside her bag. “Some parts of my life suck. Some parts of my life don’t. I can accept that. So are we done here?”

“Okay.” You raised your hand. “Point taken. I am not backing down, however.”

“Yeah, sure.” She looked at her home from far. The lamps were on. “If things ever get too far, do stop me.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you assured her. You waited a while before resuming the walk home. It didn’t take long to reach the cul-de-sac. Some of the houses, including yours, were dark.

“I’ll have you know, I’m always up for a fresh take of things.”Mary was looking at Damien’s mansion, searching for the owner, then shaking her head when she failed to spot him.

“Are you saying my take wasn’t fresh?” you said in mock surprise.

She gave a playful grin, which you returned. “See what I mean about being a really low bar?”Then the woman paced forward to Robert’s house. She pointed at the door with her thumb. “Are you going here?”

You paused, considered it, and then nodded. “If he’s not asleep yet.”

“He won’t be.” She took out her phone and tapped it a few times.

 

A short moment later the door to Robert’s home was opened abruptly, and the man himself came out looking _so handsome_ in his sleeping clothes, grumbling like an old man. “Dammit, woman, Betsy is fucking sleeping and--“The pressure visibly melted the moment he realized your presence. “Well look who’s here.”

Your neighbor didn’t even bother fighting his adoring grin, or the way his eyes lighted up as he saw your sheepish smile. He pulled you close and his hand brushed your hair gently. Your arms wrapped around him, rubbing his back before he pulled his head away to kiss you tenderly on the forehead.

Home.

“How’s your time alone?” asked Robert with tenderness before a realization made him frown with annoyance. “It didn’t seem to be that alone.”

You gave him a peck and watched as the frown instantly turned upward. It was infectious. “No, everything’s fine. I had a great time, in fact.” You threw Mary a hopeful look.

The (admittedly) embarrassing scene seemed to be enough to satisfy something within Mary, because she quickly turned around to face the street. “Well, I’m going home. Thanks for walking me home, nerd.”

You could see a flash of her smile before her back faced you completely. You would wave, but she kept walking.

“Want me to come?” offered Robert, still holding your body close to him.

“Why, miss my husband?”

He laughed. “Fine, have it your way. Don’t kill him yet.“

“Won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

You watched her until she entered her home before entering Robert’s house. Burying yourself to his chest, you murmured. “I really can’t believe Mary sometimes,”  
  
Robert’s soft laughter filled your head. “Me neither.”

 

You noticed that her gait was again, triumphant.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed, please forgive (or kindly point out) any grammatical errors. Constructive criticism (and/or Discourse™) is welcomed!
> 
> I'm working under the assumptions that a) Mary doesn't want a divorce and b) given that Dadsona here doesn't pick Joseph's route, he's very likely to keep cheating.
> 
> I don't really agree with the way I see Mary's thought process, but I can at least understand it.


End file.
